Therapy for the Bereaved
by Miss Peg
Summary: When Red John and Patrick Jane end up on Death's doorstep, an interesting therapy session follows. (In theory it could be classed as a crossover, but I made my own Death, sooo...)


**Title:** Therapy for the Bereaved  
**Author:** Miss Peg/RedFi  
**Rating:** T (brief language)  
**Characters:** Patrick Jane and Red John  
**Summary:** When Red John and Patrick Jane end up on Death's doorstep, an interesting therapy session follows.  
**Disclaimer:** I don't own anything.  
**Spoilers:** None

Another day, another dime. Being Death was growing tiresome, so much so that he'd branched out into after-death therapy to bring a little light entertainment into his life…or death as the case was.

The last two people he expected at his door on that evening in winter were Patrick Jane and his elusive foe, Red John. They were the very definition of archenemies and for that reason and that reason alone, Death decided that letting them into his office was a grave mistake. They'd already contributed to each other's deaths in life; he didn't think he could handle round two.

Before he'd even managed to introduce himself or lay down any ground rules, the mad man with the red hair started shouting.

'You killed me!'

Patrick Jane sat with his arms folded across his front, a bullet wound rested carelessly in his upper chest like an emblem on his pocket. He looked barely phased by Red John's accusations and did little more than shrug.

'Err, I think you'll find you killed me,' he said, raising an eyebrow and shifting his position.

Death considered his options and decided that now was a suitable time to intervene; he didn't want blood spilled quite so soon.

'I think you'll find it happened at the same time,' he said, but the two men barely heard him and Red John continued his rant.

'No, you definitely killed me first.'

'Well, you killed my family first,' said Jane, a bout of sadness hovering across his pupils. He had such a large cross to bear.

Death had already had to coax his late-wife down from the figurative ledge several years earlier; he understood the pain that the Jane family had been through. It was only last week that his young daughter, now a teenager, had come around looking for some comfort after returning to the land of the living for such a brief period. It usually happened when someone's currently living family member decided (against any recommendations from health care professionals) to take something they shouldn't. It had never occurred to Death that Patrick Jane would be so stupid as to take anything, let alone belladonna. Especially after his temporary period in an asylum, he'd already watched his soul flitter back into the world of the living. Was it any wonder that his poor, bereaved daughter was heartbroken at the loss of her father for the second time in her short life?

'Not that again.' Red John rolled his eyes. 'I thought you'd be over it by now.'

The very suggestion made Death roll his eyes too, but for very different reasons. Red John had merely killed dozens of people, he didn't see the aftermath for those victims or their families. Whilst Death didn't often get to see the living cope with their loss, except those that very quickly joined him, he was always forced to support the dead. The living rarely remembered that their loved ones had lost them too, but more than that, they'd lost their lives also.

The living were too black and white in their opinions of the world and that pissed Death off.

'They were my family,' said Jane in that sombre tone he'd used so often in life. Death wondered if Red John had ever really seen the sorrow of a loved one. He was always such a fool, running away before the going really got tough. Perhaps now he would understand the desperate situation he'd put his victim's families under.

'And?' Red John said with a smirk, he was such a smug bastard. If he wasn't already dead then Death would have happily taken his soul long before his time. Unfortunately, that was beyond his power. He'd waited a long time for Patrick Jane to murder the son of a bitch. 'I killed my mother when I was twelve.'

Finally, they were getting to the good stuff. The look of surprise on Jane's face suggested that he knew little of Red John's childhood. Of course, being Death, he knew everything there was to know. His father had died when he was just six years old and within another six years Red John had become so bitter and twisted that he'd knifed the poor woman in the back. A coward from the day he took his first victim.

'Not all of us are psychopaths.'

Jane was quite the wordsmith when he wanted to throw a punch, though Death was particularly glad of it being a figurative one. He'd already spent the morning cleaning blood out of the carpet after a husband and wife had come in arguing over who had caused the car accident which killed them. They never did come to any consensus, their souls were quickly damaged and they disappeared off into the atmosphere to live forever in disharmony.

'Says the psuedo-psychic who killed a stranger in a shopping mall.'

Red John was a fair opponent for Patrick Jane, in life and death. Death had watched life after life end, a constant array of souls entered his consulting room wanting vengeance on one of two men. Whilst Red John had been the one to murder the living in cold blood, Jane had inadvertedly caused the deaths of almost as many people.

And then there was Timothy Carter himself, he was rather proud of what he'd achieved in his life. Even more so that he'd managed to drive Patrick Jane to kill; it was all part of the plan, apparently. Something which Red John had been hoping to put into action for years. He hadn't been ready before, it took time to groom someone into a murderer. That was many years ago and Jane had still not taken the bait.

'You wanted me to kill him,' said Jane, leaning closer to Red John. 'It's all your fault. You sent him there, one of your disciples ready to die for you.'

Red John laughed loudly and nodded his head. There was no denying the truth in death; it always came out in the end. Unfortunately for Death, he usually had to listen to it, warts and all.

'You would have been a perfect ally, had you have accepted my requests.'

'And work for you?' said Jane, shaking his head. 'Why would I have wanted to do a thing like that?'

'Because Patrick, you and I are one of the same.'

'I am nothing like you.'

Always the denier, but Death knew more than most that Red John had hit the nail on the head. They were both strong men with convictions higher than most and should he have accepted his offer, well, Death imagined the number of victims would have tripled within a year.

'Times up Gentlemen,' said Death, waving a hand and sending their souls out of the door before they could even contest his request.

He didn't care much for banter that the two men liked to share; instead they would battle it out somewhere else. Perhaps he would send them to work for Satan himself, after all, the two men deserved nothing more than an eternal nightmare.

**The End.**


End file.
